


Say Something

by cumberbabeswillrise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon!Dean, lots of demons, trigger warning?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberbabeswillrise/pseuds/cumberbabeswillrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kind of a prompt from Supernaturalapocalypse on Tumblr.<br/>Say Something, I'm Giving Up On You.<br/>Cas gives up too soon and there really is a cure and he finds it in heaven, but he’s too broken by what Demon!Dean did to him to want to help and he just looks down sadly from heaven at the shell of what use to be Dean and Cas just whispers, “…It’s not broken.” and a single tear falls like rain and they cut to Demon!Dean where the tear has somehow through the magic of Supernatural landed on Dean’s cheek, who, having a moment of humanity, was looking up to the sky with a sad expression and he whispers, “I miss you, Cas. We can fix this.” and Cas just… walks away muttering once more, “It’s not broken.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's Different.

Castiel storms into the front door of the bunker, throwing his key into the bowl by the door. Flying down the stairs, he ignores Sam's alarmed face, he heads straight for the dungeon.

“C-Cas, don't go in there!” Sam shouts behind him, grabbing Cas' shoulder. “It's not pretty.”

“Tell me what happened,” Cas orders, his voice alarmingly steady for a man who's just lost everything.

“He didn't... die. I don't know why, but the Mark held on.” Sam looks around nervously, running a hand through his hair. “He's not human anymore.”

Cas' jaw drops. Not human? That's not possible. The Righteous Man could only be that... he had to be a man. There was no way on God's green earth that Dean Winchester could have fallen so far. If Dean wasn't human anymore, then he wasn't Dean. Dean didn't exist anymore.

Cas knows that he can't think like that, that it will kill him. Bad thinking like this will drag him down into the depths of sorrow by the ankles and hold him until his last breath leaves his body. He would be crushed by the pressure of despair and loss. There would be no point in continuing on in this world, not without his Righteous Man. There has to be a cure, there just has to be. He knows that he can find it. Dean is there. Cas will fix this.

“If he is not human, then what is he?” Cas asks, already fearing the answer. He can guess so easily what has happened to the Michael's Sword.

“A-a demon. A Knight of Hell, apparently. He doesn't seem very fazed by it.” Sam frowns, and for the first time, Cas can see the hint of tears in his eyes. Sam has aged significantly since Gadreel had first taken control of his body. His broad shoulders droop, and his eyes lack the spark they had when Cas first met him.

Cas sighs loudly. Then, taking a deep breath, storms quickly into the dungeon. It is dark, and Cas thinks that he should be afraid, and deep down, he is terrified. He can feel a dark presence, thorns and blood surrounding a weak heart. A slow, faint beating emanates from the being's chest, and Cas knows it is slowly burning out.

He hears a chuckle from the darkness. Deep and throaty, Cas knows exactly who it came from. His own breathing hitches, and he knows tears are threatening to form. It's Dean, but he is broken.

“Hey, handsome. You finally decided to come and see me, huh?” Dean laughs from the ground. He is kneeling inside a Devil's trap, chained to the floor like a dog; sigiled collar and all. His eyes flash black, and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, a warrior of God, takes a cautious step back.

“What?” Dean pouts. “You scared or somethin'?”

Cas is horrified. He doesn't see black-eyed Dean. He sees a porous face, stained blacks, purples, and blues. Blood streams from empty eye sockets and scars gleam in the dim candlelight. Black smoke surrounds the demon, blowing around with it's airflow. It talks to him like it knows him. It is an abomination, and Cas feels like he is going to be sick.

“Dean,” Cas begins, but Dean interrupts him.

“Cas, baby. Look, I'm fine! Sam is completely overreacting. I have _never_ felt so good!” He smiles broadly, “I have all these fancy powers I can show you if you let me out. That Grace of yours is burning out, ain't it? I can give you a new one, if you like.” 

“You've done it,” Cas gasps. “You've been the hero for so long, you've become the villain. You're not him.”

“Dean? Of course I'm Dean,” the demon chuckles again, it's shoulders shaking.

“Don't speak his name, you piece of filth!” Cas screams, suddenly very conscious of the Angel Blade in his sleeve. “Dean, if you're still in there, no matter how deep down, just know that we can fix this.” 

“Oh, baby. It ain't broken,” the demon laughs louder than ever. It thinks that this is a big joke, but Cas sees differently. 

With this reply, Castiel knows that he has lost the Righteous Man, and that he will have to fight like Hell to get him back. He feels his insides shatter, and the broken glass cuts him deeply from within. There is nothing left here for him. Everything that matters is gone. The light in his life has gone out.

Cas takes a step backwards, whispering, “Dean, I will fix this. I will fix you.”

“It ain't broken, fairy wings!” the demon yells as Cas walks out of the dungeon. His screams echo in Castiel's mind, clinging to him like ankle weights in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. 

 

“I told you,” Sam calmly states as Cas passes him. “He's gone.”

Cas ignores him, “Have you been treating him with human blood?” 

“Yeah, but it doesn't seem to help. He pretends to be normal one minute, the next he's telling me all of the things he did in Hell, and all the things he will do once he's free.” Sam breathes deeply, and it seems like he is going to faint. He reaches out quietly, though, and pulls a chair out to sit on. 

“Good, keep doing that. Ignore him. Just treat him as often as you can, get someone to help you.”

“Why can't you help me?” Sam asks. “Cas, you can't do much else. Your Grace is going to burn out soon, isn't it?” 

Cas nods, but then shakes his head. “That doesn't matter. I'm going to find a way to cure him. He's going to die human.” Cas turns on his heel and walks out the bunker door.

“Cas,” Sam whispers behind him. “He's already dead.”

 

 

 


	2. King Of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas visits Crowley

Attempting to leave Dean's profanities and hurtful words behind him, Castiel leaves the bunker, only to head straight for Crowley. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. It threatened to spill out of his mouth and burn his flesh. It was horrifying. Who knew an angel's wrath could be so intense?

“Cassy!” Crowley drawls from his seat as Cas barges in the door for dramatic effect. He needed to seem as scary as possible. He needed to make Crowley know he meant business.

Crowley, however, seems unfazed. Surrounded by women, holding a cocktail, Crowley seems at peace with himself. “How have you been?”  
“You knew,” Cas growled, seizing The King Of Hell by his shirt collar and ripping him out of his seat. Demonesses hiss at him, but Crowley waves them off.

“Down, girls. Daddy's working.” Crowley turns to Cas and gives him a coy smile, “How's Squirrel?”

“You knew what would happen. You knew.” Cas slams Crowley back against the wall. “Tell me how to fix him!”

“You can't fix him! He isn't broken! There is nothing about him that is reversible, you insignificant ant!” Crowley spits, his leisurely attitude gone. “Dean is still Dean, his soul is just darker now. It's twisted, more than before. You can't straighten out a bendy ruler!”

Cas wasn't one hundred percent sure what Crowley meant, but he got the jist of it. Dean had to be shaped back into the man he was, immortal or not. Demon or not. Castiel could be the mold Dean needed, all he had to do was try.

“So he can be fixed.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, sighing audibly. “I just said no. You can't change who he is deep down.”

“I don't have to change him. I just have to bring him back to the surface.” Cas drops Crowley from the wall and takes a step back. He contemplates for a moment. He has known for a long time that smiting Crowley would not be difficult, and beneficial to him. But if Crowley was gone, Hell would be a mess, and it would be prime time for Dean to become King.

If Dean became King, then he wouldn't be Dean anymore. He would be The King Of Hell. He would be King Demon. All of Cas' fears would come true, and the world would either fall or rise. Dean could either kill all the humans or save them if he chose.

The real question was: which would Dean choose?

 


	3. Broken

“If I were to free you, what would you do?” Cas asks, running a finger along his Angel Blade. Dean is still chained to the floor, and he smiles broadly up at Castiel.

“I would hunt again,” Dean states, crossing his legs Indian Style. He tries to look as innocent as possible, but Cas sees through it.

“Hunt what?” Cas finally looks at Dean. He had been pointedly ignoring his hunter before, but he needed to know if Dean was lying. He had always been able to tell.

“Monsters, baby. What else?” Dean smiles widely. A baby smile that Cas knows is fake. Dean usually uses it to charm women into sleeping with him.

“You are a monster. You're an abomination, you know that right?” Cas laughs lightly. He had been here for months. Talking to Dean, hoping that he would see his compassionate side shine through. It hadn't happened yet.

Cas has yet to cut or harm Dean in any way, but he feels he is on the verge of madness. It would kill him to harm Dean, yet he feels as though it will make the big ball of stress in his stomach evaporate.

Dean almost looks hurt. “I can't help that. I can't help what they did to me!”

“What they did to you?!” Cas explodes. “You did this to yourself! _You_ took the Mark. _You killed those people knowing it was making you worse._ ” The lights above them explode, and Cas' Angel Blade flies into the wall. “ _You,_ Dean, _you,_ turned yourself into a monster knowing damn well that something bad like this would happen. Don't put this on others, Dean, when you ripped yourself apart.”

Dean grins from ear to ear. “You're mad that I ruined myself. You're angry that I'm not the Righteous Man anymore.” Dean huffs, chuckling deeply. “I'm not pure enough for you anymore, am I, Castiel?”

Cas turns around on his heel and walks out of the dungeon.

“What's the matter?” Dean yells behind him. “Can't handle the heat? Stay out of the furnace, fairy!”

Closing the door behind him, Cas squeezes his eyes together, attempting to block out Dean's screams. They pound into his brain, echo all around and seep down his spine like poison. He tries to control his breathing, because he knows Dean can still hear him.

Cas' Grace is burning. He can feel it fading away almost as much as he can feel Dean's humanity dissipating. It gives him migraines, nightmarish ones that make him feel like his brain will explode. Jimmy Novak screams inside of him, begging for the pain to stop.

Even though Jimmy is Cas' vessel, Jimmy has grown as attached to the Winchester's as much as Cas has. Jimmy feels the pain that Cas is going through, but he won't let Cas forget the pain. Jimmy keeps bringing it up and making Cas relive every minute of his sessions with Dean. Going over them, analyzing them, and forcing Cas to see what he has to do.

“Kill him, save billions,” Jimmy whispers into Cas' ear. “Save the world, Castiel. Do what you were meant to.”

Now Cas has two voices to block out. He has to block out Dean's and Jimmy's. Both are trying to tell him to do the things that would kill him. Both are trying to destroy him.

“I'm not broken, Cas!” Dean states from the dungeon. “You are.”

 


	4. The First Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last really short chapter, I promise (unless it's like a needed short one later on.) Now, they're all going to be long and more detailed!

“Cassy,” Dean whispers, “What're you gonna do to me?” Dean flirts.

“Shut up, Dean.” Cas groans from the side of the room. His head feels like it's going to explode. Jimmy screams. God, he never stops screaming.

“C'mon, Cas. Let me out. Unchain me. Am I just a pet to you anymore?” Dean coaxes. His breath is like warm syrup. Cas wants to let him free.

“Stop, please stop. I don't want to hurt you, Dean. If I let you out, you'll kill people.” Cas pleads. His heart is swelling, and it's going to burst.

“Cas, baby. Please. Listen to me,” Dean whispers. Cas looks up. Dean smiles at him from ear to ear. His eyes are sympathetic. “I know you're hurting. Let me fix you. Let me help. I can fix you, baby.”

“Shut up!” Cas yells. His Angel Blade flashes, catching Dean in the neck and scratching down his chest.

“C-Cas,” Dean groans, holding his chest the best he can with his shackled arms.

“ _It's not broken,_ ” Cas spits, and sweeps out of the room.

 


	5. Addonexus

“You haven't even tried to help me turn him around, Sam!” Cas screams at Sam.

Sam stands there. He's used to the verbal abuse from Castiel by now. Every day is something new, though it's more or less the same.

Dean threatens and attempts to attack a calm and composed Sam, a Sam entirely void of reason and feeling. Dean tries to make Sam join him, to free him, but Sam doesn't listen. Sam walks in, injects Dean with his brother's blood, and walks out. It drives Dean crazy.

Cas tortures Dean now. Every day. He screams at Sam for not helping. He throws things, he breaks things, he drinks. Every day. He becomes more broken and human every second as his Grace drains.

“It's like you don't even care if he gets better.”

Sam turns to Cas, angry. “You cut open my brother, you take the clean human blood I give him out. You don't care if he gets better.”

Before Cas can get angry and hit him or anything else, Sam turns around and walks into the dungeon.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean smiles as Sam walks in. He's clad only in his boxers, because it makes it easier for Cas to go to work on him, still chained to the floor.

“Hey Dean,” Sam smiles back, kneeling on the floor and pressing a cold washcloth to Dean's wounds.

“He's killin' me, Sammy,” Dean whimpers, shedding a tear for good measure.

“Cas? He thinks you're already dead.” Sam wipes up the rest of the blood on Dean's chest and face. The cuts are already healing, the bleeding has stopped. “I'm not sure if I think so. But if you're not really in there, tell me so I can get rid of you. If you're not my brother, I don't want you. If you are Dean, then cool, I'll deal with this. I've tried to find every way I could to cure you, Dean. Nothing seems to work.” Sam shrugs and stands up.

“I want to help. I want to believe that maybe, this will all turn out alright. Cas, he's broken. He's done, cracked. I'm getting there. So, if you would, please stop screwing with me and just tell me.”

Dean looks up at him, appalled. “Sammy, it's me. I'm here! Cas is completely unhinged. I'm tired of this.”

“If you are Dean, then that means I can't let you go. I can't have a demon roaming the world. You'll kill people.” Sam rubs a hand over his face, sighing. “Here,” he says as he pushes a needle into Dean's neck. “We'll start with this for now. You're going to get better.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but a voice from the shadows interrupts, “Sam,” Cas whispers, “there was a knock at the door. It's not my home, so I didn't want to answer.”

Sam nods and heads out the door. Dean screams behind him, “Don't leave me, Sammy! Don't leave me with him!”

He tries to ignore him, ripping the door open with much more force than he'd meant to. He looks out the door to see a young woman standing before him. Her long, snow white hair is pulled up in a ponytail. She wears a lacy floral tank top that covers little, with a bandeau thingy that Sam had seen around lately, and tight black pants. Beginning from her spine, Sam can see angel wing tattoos that trail down each arm to her wrists. Other tattoos encompass her body, but Sam can't really tell what they are.

“Hello?” he asks. She turns around, flashing him a white smile. Her tan skin gleams, and her eyes look like empty root beer bottles in fading sunlight.

“Want any Thin Mints?” she smiles again.

“Sorry, we don't want any Girl Scout cookies,” Sam apologizes. She was much too old to be a Girl Scout.

“Good, because I'm not selling any.” She thrusts out a small hand. “Jazz O'Conner.”

Sam warily takes her hand, shaking it quickly. “Sam Winchester.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she laughs lightly. Suddenly, her face gets serious. “You've got a Knight of Hell in your dungeon, Sam, and I want to see him.”

“What the hell?” Sam slams the door shut, but suddenly a large green vine appears and forces the door open. “What the hell?” Sam repeats.

Plants follow behind her and hold the door open around her. She flicks her wrist and the gun in his belt loop is pulled out, and his arms are pinned behind his back.

“Look, I don't want to hurt him. I just want to see him.” She looks him in the eyes, and he thinks she is sincere. He struggles, but the vines tighten around his body like snakes.

“Don't struggle! Haven't you ever read _Harry Potter_? Struggling will just make them strangle you.”

Sam looks at her incredulously. “So, if I relax, they'll just let me slide through.”

Jazz smiles at him, “No, but they won’t hurt you.” She wiggles her finger, and the vines pull Sam alongside her and into the dungeon. When she sees Cas, she quickly wraps him up in thick, green plants with Sam.

“Who are you, sugar?” Dean drawls at Jazz.

“Whoa,” she whispers, roughly grabbing his jaw and moving his head to get a better look at him.

“Like what you see, cherry pie?” he laughs, and she shoves his face away from her hand.

“Not really, but you are fascinating, aren't you?” She stands with her hands on her hips. She cuts a stunning figure in her tight clothing, and all three men are staring, and she knows it. “A human soul, forced from stunning white light into a black cloud. I mean, it's a magnificent, horrible change. I know how much it would have hurt. Hell all over again, huh Dean?”

“How do you know who I am?” Dean growls up at her, his flirty demeanor gone.

She motions to the plants sprouting up around her, “I have this connection with the Earth. I know everything. You haven't moved from this spot in months, so I thought I'd come check you out.” She laughs lightly, “I'm not too disappointed, I have to say.”

“Yeah, well I've been hunting my entire life and I've never seen anything like you.”

Jazz smiles, “Awh, thanks, sug. Name's Jazz, by the way. I know how to keep low. Hunter's shoot first, ask questions later. I'm a hunter myself, so I know how the life goes.”

“You kill monsters?” Dean frowns. “But, you're a monster, technically. Wouldn't you have to kill yourself?”

“So are you, yet you haven't killed yourself, either,” she countered, snugly grabbing Dean's jaw again. “You're the abomination. I'm a product of the Earth. We're both creatures of God. Whether Lucifer created demons, and you, or not, God created Lucifer. You're the Righteous Man, Dean Winchester, you are God's child. You are descended from Cain himself, that's why you took to the Mark so well. You can be freed, just like he was. You don't have to be a monster, Dean.”

Dean flashed his eyes black and glared at her. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“You have a soul, Dean. It's tarnished, and clouded, but it's there. The soul doesn't just turn evil overnight. You're not evil, you're twisted and hurt, but you're not evil.” Jazz's eyes take on an deep intensity, and her chocolate eyes seem to hold fire for a moment. “You are a good person who bad things have happened to. You will survive. God will show you the mercy you deserve, as long as you deserve it.” She lets go of Dean's jaw once more and turns on her heel and waltzes out the door, taking Sam and Cas with her.

Once out of the dungeon, she releases Cas and Sam from their bonds. They both rub at their arms and mouths where the vines silenced them. They glare at her, and she waits for them to recover.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asks, taking a step toward Jazz, who defensively throws up a vine. Sam backs off immediately.

“I'm sorry,” he says, putting his hands up. “That's why you wanted to see him? To tell him that he has to deserve humanity?”

Jazz smiles at him, “I wanted to see how bad it was.” Sam looked confused. “He's really far gone, Sam. You need to watch him. Maybe letting him go wouldn't be the worst thing.”

“Why wouldn't that be?” Cas asks, his eyes dark and brooding. It was the first time he had spoken since Jazz had entered.

“We can find out what kind of a demon he's become. I mean, it's your choice, but he's been here for months and he's not getting any better is he?” Jazz puts a hand on her hip, standing akimbo. Her white hair trails over her shoulders, spilling into her shirt.

“He will _kill_ people,” Sam hisses. “What part of that don't you understand?”

“I understand perfectly, Sam. You have to make sacrifices, though, and if he teams up with Crowley, he'll kill monsters who get in his way. At least Crowley has standards, unlike most monsters. He wouldn't be a bad teacher for your brother.”

Sam has never felt a bigger urge to smack a woman in his life. It would be wrong, and he knows that, and he tries to calm down. All of a sudden, he feels a calming presence surround him. He looks up and sees Jazz's hand on his shoulder. For a moment, he thinks he can see a golden light from his arm connect with a purple one from hers. She lets go of him and takes a few steps back.

“I'm going to go. I just wanted to see him. I'm satisfied now.” She smiles at them both, then turns on her heel, leaving Sam and Cas speechless.

“That was weird,” Cas mutters behind Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam laughs lightly. “What was she?”

Cas frowns, “I think an Addonexus. They're creatures that can control the elements, others auras, and basically any pure energy. I didn't think that they actually existed. Her hair's even white...” Cas laughs again, a hysterical look upon his face. “Those creatures are literally one with the Earth, Sam. They feel the pain of every human being, creature, and plant on the planet. If she lives, she's probably the only one in existence.”

“Are they supposed to be evil?” Sam asks, trying to keep the conversation going. This was the first normal conversation he and Cas'd had in months.

“No, no. They're supposed to be pure. They create life and preserve it.” Cas shrugs his shoulders. “I'm going to take a nap.”

Since Cas' Grace has been burning, he has been acting like a human more often. He doesn't sleep and suffers because of it, so a nap is a good sign.

“Sleep tight.”

 


	6. Out For A Run

“Hey,” Cas mutters groggily as he walks out of Dean's room in the morning. Since Dean was “living” in the dungeon, Cas took the liberty of keeping his bed warm.

“You slept all night,” Sam smiles over him over a cup of coffee, a newspaper in one hand.

“Yeah, well, yesterday was eventful,” Cas glares at him as he pours his own cup. He sits down across from Sam.

“How much did you drink yesterday? You look hungover.” Sam bitch-faces him, knowing very well that he's doing it.

“I didn't, actually,” Cas huffs defensively. “I was preoccupied yelling at you for no reason.”

“It's fine, Cas.”

“It's not, though. Dean's... condition,” Cas makes a face, talking with his hands. “hasn't just been difficult on me, but on you as well. I've failed to notice that in my own spiraling depression.” Cas sets down his cup of coffee. “He's broken, as am I, as are you. We all need to figure out how to help ourselves before we try to help each other. Dean doesn't need us there everyday to watch him. Sam, you can do whatever you need to.”

“I've got nowhere to go, Cas.” Sam runs his hands through his hair. He needed to get it trimmed. “Even if I wanted to leave, I've got nowhere to go, and nothing to do.”

“I saw how you were looking at the Addonexus yesterday. Jazz,” Cas smirks from across the table. “She was very pretty... curvy... some sort of supernatural power... your kind of girl, huh?”

“She _was_ very pretty, yes. But she's probably long gone by now, even if I was interested, which I'm not.” Sam stood up and put his empty cup in the sink and handed Cas the paper.

“I'm sure she's not too far away. I don't think she would have left _us_ with a Knight of Hell in our dungeon. We aren't exactly stable,” Cas smiles to himself.

“Whatever, I'm going for a run.” Sam laughs as he walks out of the kitchen.

 

 

Plugging his earphones into his iPod, Sam takes off down the road next to the bunker. As his legs pump, air fills his lungs. He feels euphoric, and he can feel a genuine smile break out on his face. His hair is pulled back with a leather strap, and the air feels nice and cool throughout his scalp.

It's been months since he's run. The fresh air, the hot sun, his skin drinks them both in like a man dying of thirst. It feels so good, he feels so free.

After about an hour, he closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself breathe deeply. Cautiously opening his eyes, he sees a flash of white hair.

“What the hell?” he asks, skidding to a stop.

Jazz continues to jog around him, her long hair bouncing behind her. “You say that a lot, y'know?”

“What are you doing?” he asks, retying his leather strap.

“I'm getting some exercise, you?” She smiles at him, broad and wide. “I love the ponytail.”

Sam scowls at her, untying the leather strap. She frowns at him. “I'm exercising, too. Why are you still here?”

“I liked the view. These back roads are beautiful.” She smiles even wider, if possible. Motioning with her hands, she points out a few flowers and trees that she finds especially beautiful.

“Come on, I've something to show you.” Jazz reaches out her hand to him, and to his surprise, he takes it.

“Where are we going?” Sam asks as he trails behind her, his fingers loosely laced with hers.

“What? You don't trust me?” she sneaks a glance back at him, flashing a flirtatious smile.

“Oddly, I do. But I don't like surprises,” he tells her as they walk deeper into the trails. She veers off of one of them, hopping over logs and branches as she goes.

“Then you're in the wrong line of work, hun.”

“Eh, I'm kind of stuck with it now,” Sam laughs lightly, brushing his hair back. He feels awkward, but secure at the same time. He can feel the familiar lightness of anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“Hey,” she says lightly, turning around to face him and coming to a stop. “You're Sam freaking Winchester. You can do anything you want with your life, Sam. No matter what age. I've seen the things you've done. That lets me know that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

“I don't know,” he sighs, “I've tried to leave a few times. Wanted to be a lawyer, didn't work out. I started working at a bar, didn't work out. A couple bars, actually.”

Jazz nods quietly and continues walking. She pushes through branches and bushes, bypassing them easily, whereas Sam has to duck every other branch. They walk in silence for a few minutes before she stops again. Looking at him with a devilish grin, she pushes aside one last branch and ushers him forward.

Cautiously, Sam steps forward into a clearing. He gives a gasp of surprise that makes Jazz giggle. Past the miles of foliage rests a large grassy field. Trees surround the top of the field, making it dimly lit. Sunlight shines through the trees , creating little slivers of light on the ground.

“Do you like it? It's a little bare,” Jazz asks, laughing at Sam's face. “Hey, have you ever seen Frozen?”

Sam nods, “Yeah, I made Dean watch it with me when it came out. He loved it.” A genuine laugh escapes his lips, resonating from deep within. “He remembered the words the first time around. When I bought a copy for him he already knew every line.”

Jazz bites her lip, holding back a laugh. “Wanna see something?” Sam nods again.

Jazz moves to the middle of the field, evening her feet with her shoulders, her arms held at waist level. Looking at Sam once more, she throws her hands up in the air.

A deep shaking moves through the ground, almost knocking Sam off of his feet. Flowers of all shapes and colors erupt from the earth with the force of running elk. They bloom all around him, growing and sprouting up to his knees.

“Let it go, let it go!” Jazz sings as she moves her body around in fluid dancing motions. “Can't hold it back anymore.” More and more plants spring from the ground every time she moves. Her neon running clothes blend perfectly with the soft pinks and purples of the once bare field.

Jazz closes her eyes and rocks her head back, and a steady stream of water begins to flow around her and into the air. She throws her hands up one more time, and the water follows. It forms a huge ball above her, the fluid moving all in one motion. She flicks her fingers a few times and the water bursts into tiny droplets, scattering the flowers and Sam equally.

“Sam,” Jazz gasps, walking back toward him. “Have you ever felt the turn of the Earth?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, “Never.” Her face looks so peaceful, yet full of exhilarating adventure at the same time.

“Let me show you then.” Jazz reaches for his hand. He instinctively pulls it out of her reach, but the look she gives him makes him give up. She puts her hand on top of his own, lacing her fingers around the top of his hand. She places the palm of his hand over her heart.

All of a sudden, Sam feels dizzy. Dizzier than he's ever felt before. His feet lurch underneath him, moving in a steady circle. Sounds become clearer, and his vision of Jazz becomes sharper. He sees a purple smoke around her body, flowing around her. He can taste the air, and the silence becomes deafening.

When the shock is over, Sam feels alive. He feels safe here, like this. He feels everything. The exhilaration of flight, the thrill of the hunt. The sorrow of loss, and the happiness of gain. He feels it all. He feels fear emanating from the heart of the woman he was touching now. Constant anxiety and depression flow from her like water from the Niagara.

“The light you're seeing right now is my aura. I think mine's purple. Yours is gold, Pony Boy. Dean's is black. Castiel's is a blinding shade of blue.” Jazz smiles that wide smile of hers. As if it were possible, it seems even more brilliant like this. “All the emotions, those are from every breathing being on this earth.”

Jazz reaches up to touch his face. Unbeknownst to him, he was crying. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. “It's overwhelming. I've only shown three people this, and they all have broken down. Not you, though, huh? You seem to be composing yourself well enough.”

“This... is amazing, Jazz,” Sam manages to whisper. He can hear his voice dripping in awe. “Wait, did you do this to me yesterday?”

Jazz blushes, “Yeah. I thought you were going to have a panic attack, so I tried to calm you down a bit.”

“Thanks,” Sam tells her, locking onto her root beer eyes. “Those have been coming more often lately.”

“It happens to the best of us, Sam. It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of.” She locks her eyes on him as well, as if it were a game she was intent on winning. “People get panic attacks all the time. Anxiety is actually pretty common.”

“Yeah, but like you said, I'm Sam freaking Winchester. I don't get anxious. I don't get scared. I fight monsters, for Christ's sake.” Sam can feel his hands shaking like an alcoholic on withdrawal. His breathing is just as bad. He forces himself to look away from her, embarrassed by his weakness.

“Sam Winchester loves his brother, that's pretty well known. Your brother is broken, and hurt, and that scares you. It's natural to be scared. You know very well that you should be scared of the things that are in the dark, and now your brother has become the darkness.” She grabs Sam's chin, forcing him to look at her. “This is one of the most difficult jobs there are. It gets hard, it's depressing. Some days, I want to off myself and end it all. I don't, though, because there are people I know that I need to save.”

“We are allowed to be afraid of what might happen to us, Sam. But we are not allowed to let that get in our way. That fear is going to build up and up if you let it, and it will do nothing but kill you. Are you gonna let it kill you?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

“Then let yourself shake, but know when to hold steady. You're only as scared as you want to be, Sam.”

“No,” he shakes his head again. “I can't just make it stop. I can't help it when it comes. The shakes take over and I feel like I'm going to puke. I can't breathe, and I feel like every evil thing in the world is coming to get me.”

“Sam, that's not what I mean. Coping is the first step to recovery,” she whispers. “You think that these tattoos are here just because I like them? They cover scars, yeah, but they are here to remind me that only I can make things better. I'm the only one who can fix myself. I have to cope with who I am, I need to _understand_ who I am before I can get better. Sam, you have been so busy finding yourself, that I don't think you even knew you were lost. You brother is gone, and you are scared and alone. You've always had him there. But now, you've got to stand up for yourself.”

“I've been without him before. I know how to stand up for myself, Jazz.” Sam huffs, instinctively defensive.

“No, you haven't. Even when you were gallivanting by yourself at law school, you know he was always checking up on you. Whenever things went wrong, you thought of Dean. What would he do? How would he deal?” Jazz was really close to him now. Her face was less than five inches away.

“You need to start asking yourself a better question: What would Sam Winchester do? What is the best thing that Sam can come up with? You cannot let your soldier brother and father dictate your decisions. _You're so damn smart, Sam._ You know that.”

“How do you know any of this?”

“I told you. I am a part of the Earth.” Jazz puts a hand on his cheek. “Also, I've heard a few things from a few hunters. And your dad was close to mine.”

“What was his name?” Sam asks, taking her hand in his, off of his face.

“Seamus. Same name as my son.” Jazz takes a few steps forward, away from Sam. She brings her arms into her sides.

“You have a family? Why aren't you with them?” Sam inquires, stepping closer to her. She knows everything about him and Dean, so it only seems fitting that he finds out things about her.

“Had,” she explains, sneaking a glimpse at him. “I had a family. They're long gone, now. About 3 years.”

“You don't look old enough to have a family. You're what, twenty years old?”

“Twenty three, thanks,” she chuckles lightly. “I got married when I turned eighteen. I had my son and daughter about five months later. I was pregnant with my second daughter when they died.”

Jazz slowly lowers herself to the ground, brings up her knees and wraps her arms around them. She sets her chin on them lightly, and Sam can see her jaw muscles tighten.

“How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?” he asks, sitting next to her on the ground. As he looks around, he notices that the flowers that had just grown around them are beginning to wilt.

“Car accident, of all things. A drunk driver named Gary Davis hit us on our way to the hospital. I was in labor, and my twin brother was with us. Twins run in our family, if you can't tell.” Jazz elbows him lightly, trying to make the story seem a bit happier, but Sam can see the darkness in her brown eyes. “His wife had just left him, and he was driving his semi home to confront her, drunker then all hell. He slammed into our 2001 Camry at eighty five miles per hour. My husband, brother, and daughters were all killed instantly. My son died three days later.” A tear runs down her cheek. Sam reaches out to catch it, but thinks better of it.

“They weren't Addonexuses?”

“They were, but they weren't mature enough to have any powers. Plus, they were only half. My brother just wasn't born with any powers. A Squib in the family.” Jazz smiles at her own joke.

Sam smiles with her, then his expression hardens. “Do you miss them?”

Jazz looks up at him sadly, “Every single day, Sam. Every single day.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First part of this! I'm going to add more, but I wanted to give you guys a kind of teaser.


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